Cole's Redemption (Alpha Pack #5)(45)

Zan figured the mutual friend was Jarrod Grant.

“Thank you. He speaks highly of you as well. Shall we get going? I know you all must be tired and hungry. We’ll eat and then let your men rest tonight. There’s time enough for the meeting tomorrow.”

“That sounds just fine, thank you.”

Thank God!

The team split up, and both limos were more than enough to accommodate them all. Nick and the prince rode in the first limo, along with the newly turned young vampire, Aric, Rowan, and Hammer. Zan rode in the second car with Ryon, Jax, Nix, and Micah. Each car also carried several of the prince’s soldiers, who were not dressed in a military style at all, but in black jeans and long-sleeved shirts and wearing cool shades. Zan thought they looked like bouncers at a club, but refrained from saying so.

The interior of the limo was plush, the ride smooth, even on these roads. Soft music played through the speakers, making Zan sleepy all over again. He was about worn-out for the day, and he was getting a slight headache to match the pain in his thigh.

He was sitting with his head resting against the glass, eyes half-closed, when he saw something that had him sitting upright, suddenly wide-awake. He squinted, trying to see better—

And spotted the fading sunlight reflect off a long, green barrel that was poking through the underbrush. Shit!

“Stop the cars!” he shouted, scaring everyone awake. “Ambush ahead! Stop—”

A stream of smoke erupted from the brush, and there was a loud boom that shook the car they were riding in. Rocket launcher! From the side window, Zan watched in horror as the lead car skidded, flipped sideways, and rolled over into a gulley. His own limo skidded to a halt, and the team poured out the doors.

Straight into an assault by at least thirty rogues. Maybe more.

The fight was on, and there was no time to check on his Pack brothers in the first car. He could only hope they were all right as he engaged the first rogue, sliced its throat and stabbed it in the heart, and then fought the next one. And the next.

Exhaustion crept in, but he couldn’t stop. Finally, he spotted Nick and the others from the first car joining the fray. That was a relief, though he couldn’t spot the boy. Then Nick went down and didn’t get up. That moment of distraction almost cost Zan his head. But at the last moment, he whirled and deflected the killing blow and dispatched the attacker.

His arms were tiring, his head throbbing. But he couldn’t quit. At one point he was amazed to see that the young man had acquired a long blade from somewhere and was cutting a swath through the rogues like he’d been doing it all his life. Zan figured the kid owed the bastards for killing his family. Maybe he had found a new calling.

Slash, stab, yank out the heart. He shut out fatigue and emotion. Kept going until he and his teammates, and the boy, along with the prince’s soldiers, were standing alone on the blood-soaked battlefield, amid their defeated enemy.

Defeated for now.

Jesus, he hurt all over. He was tired and ravenous. Whatever the prince was serving, he was going to eat until he exploded.

Suddenly, a shout chased away thoughts of dinner. He looked around and spotted Rowan crouched over a prone body—Nick! Running, leaping over bodies, Zan made his way to his boss’s side and dropped to his knees.

“He and the prince are hurt,” Rowan told him. She met Zan’s gaze, the knowledge there painful. “I know Melina and Mac told you not to use your healing again, but Tarron’s wound is bad.”

“I’m not letting either one of them die,” Zan said grimly, “so don’t try to stop me.”

Nobody could argue with that, no matter how badly they didn’t want Zan hurt by using his gift. And nobody tried to talk him out of it, though he knew they wanted to. As Zan assessed the two men, he noted that the boy was watching intently. Taking it all in. He supposed the period of shock had given way to a survival instinct. That would hold the boy in good stead for a long time.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he placed his hands on Tarron’s chest.

“Daegan.”

“Watch and learn, Daegan. They’re our leaders, and that’s exactly why that limo was targeted. Even if the battle is won, if the leader falls, the war can be lost. It’s the soldier’s job to protect him, no matter the personal price.”

“Yes, sir.”

Centering himself, he tried not to think about what might happen to his brain. About the doctors’ warnings coming true. This was his calling, what he was born to do.

“Stab wound to the gut,” he told the group. “Got a bunch of the intestines. Fatal without intervention because he’s losing blood faster than his vampire healing can handle. Here I go.”

The wound was a raging bitch to repair. Slowly, he knitted together the ripped tissue, reconnected thousands of tiny veins. Pumped up the blood supply to the prince’s organs. Halfway through, his head began to ache. Throb. Three quarters of the way, he was struggling not to pass out from the pain as the tiny eruptions began to take place deep in his brain.

“Almost there,” he whispered. “Just a little more.”

Then he was done. He was almost blind from the pain as he pushed from Tarron’s healing body to Nick’s nearby. The commander was sitting up, protesting any help.

“No,” he told Zan. “I can see you’re in a lot of pain. I’ll be fine.”